


Dangerous Territory

by Just_Another_Flygirl



Series: 100 Themes Challenge [6]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Thunderbirds
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Flygirl/pseuds/Just_Another_Flygirl
Summary: Responding to a situation, Alan and Gordon Tracy are about to find out that not everything is as it seems... (my Halloween fic for 2020)
Series: 100 Themes Challenge [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1098411
Comments: 42
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Thunderbirds Are Go - they belong to the late Gerry and Silvia Anderson
> 
> Author's Note: I realise it's been a while since I last posted anything (almost 10 months!)  
> Lots of things have happened - mainly this 2020 pandemic which I've had to work throughout. I was also really unwell and ended up in (another) hospital because I was rushed to A&E with a suspected lung clot x_x  
> Doing a bit better now - and discovered a new commute to and from work (due to a lot of transport being shut down at the height of lockdown) that gives me more time to do a bit of writing so... I figured this would be a good place to start out!  
> I'll try my best to update my other fics as well too!  
> As always, kudos and reviews are always welcome ^_^

_Drip... Drip... Drip..._

“Alan! Alan, wake up!”

Alan Tracy let out an involuntary groan; his youthful face scrunching up as a sharp pain lanced through his skull.

_Drip... Drip... Drip..._

“Wh...What...?”

“Take it easy, Al. You look like you've taken one heck of a knock to your head.”

Baby blues opened cautiously and Alan let out a small hiss, wincing as he became more aware of the constant throbbing on the right side of his head. Gentle hands helped to support him as he struggled to sit up, alarm shooting down his spine at his inability to see his surroundings. 

_Drip... Drip... Drip..._

“Hey! Take it easy! How are you feeling?”

“Like an elephant sat on my head...” groaned the blond. “That you, Gordon? Everything's so... dark.”Those same hands on his shoulders have him a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah it's me, bro. Just give yourself a moment for your eyes to adjust.”

_Drip... Drip... Drip..._

The constant sound of something wet dropping from a great height was really starting to irk the youngest Tracy.

“What the heck is that noise? Where are we?”

“You can't tell by the smell?” there was a faint hint of disgust in the aquanaut's voice. “I think we must have fallen into a restroom. Not a very well-kept one at that.”

They had... fallen?

“How...?”

It had been more of a rhetorical question. Alan was still trying to control the pounding in his head.

_Drip... Drip... Drip..._

Gordon replied regardless. “Not so sure myself. _Something_ hit the building and next thing I knew, we had fallen through the floor. Possibly even two floors. Or three-”

“Ugh. I think I get the picture, thanks...” Alan grumbled, gingerly bringing a gloved hand up to touch the side of his helmet, grimacing as he felt a sizable dent along the right side. That would explain the headache. The fall must have shorted out both his and Gordon's helmet lights as well, hence the awful darkness. 

Thank goodness for Scott and Virgil often drumming into them the importance of-

Wait.

“Where are the others?” Alan frowned, mild panic creeping along his spine. “Weren't Scott and Virgil with us?”

Despite how he was feeling, Alan's eyes were slowly but surely adjusting to the darkness. The faint glow of an emergency exit light was aiding his vision, if only slightly. Gordon was gradually starting to un-blend from the dank blackness that had initially surrounded them - enough so that that youngest could see that his brother's lips were pressed into a troubled frown.

_Drip... Drip... Drip..._

“They were checking out the other side of the building when whatever hit us... Hit us,” explained the aquanaut. “I tried to raise them on comms but I can't get through. To anyone.”

The aforementioned feeling of panic was starting to grow.

“Thunderbird Five. Do you read me?” Alan was pretty sure he knew that there would be no response from his space-bound brother; the IR logo on his utility sash failing to illuminate as he attempted to activate it. “Thunderbird One? Scott? Virgil? Does anyone copy?”’

Silence.

Not even static.

Just...

Dead silence.

_Drip... Drip... Drip..._

The blond ground his teeth in frustration as the incessant sound of droplets falling seemed almost too loud one the silence.

They needed to get out of there.

“Al, can you walk?” 

Gordon seemed to have had the same idea; beating him to his own question.

Alan grunted a response as he shifted, sitting up a little straighter. Gordon's supportive hands never left him, steadying the young astronaut as he struggled to get to his feet. Blue and red gloves reached out instinctively for purchase as, for a moment, Alan's dim surroundings seemed to spin and tilt in a near-nauseating fashion.

“Woah! Take it easy! I've got you.”

“I'm fine...” Alan insisted, squeezing his eyes shut as the pressure in his head spiked momentarily. He took a deep, slightly shaky breath through his nose, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling as gently as he could through his mouth. 

_Drip... Drip... Drip..._

He repeated the action again. 

By the third cycle of breathing exercises - which Kayo had taught them back when they stayed to train with her many years ago - he found the pressure and panic start to ebb as he regained more of his balance.

“You okay?”

It was so odd hearing Gordon speak in such a serious manner. The second-youngest was usually full of witty remarks and bad puns.

It only accented how serious their situation was.

“I'm good,” Alan considered a small mood of his head but thought twice and instead decided a thumbs up would be the best approach. “We need to get out of here.”

Wherever ‘here’ was.

Alan felt Gordon's left hand reposition itself around his back and under his armpit, draping his right arm over his shoulder and giving him extra support. The astronaut did not miss the slight hiss from his older sibling as they began to move towards the dim light that marked the way towards the emergency exit.

“Gordon?”

“Must've twisted my ankle when we fell,” Gordon replied, biting his lower lip. “I'll be okay.”

_Drip... Drip... Drip..._

“Are you sure?”

“If it's all the same to you, Al, I would really rather _not_ hang around in this cesspit of a bathroom listening to water torture,” Gordon snorted. “Especially since we don't know how secure those upper levels are anymore. I know a whole chunk of building came down after us, so it's only a matter of time before - ”

_Crack!_

Alan's head shot up towards the source of the sound and immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his head.

“Move!”

He had no time to protest or react before Gordon was already forcefully pulling at him, roughly guiding him towards that faint light. Alan had very little choice but to stumble along blindly. 

_Creeeeak_

“Not good...!” Gordon released his grip on Alan as he fumbled and wrestled with the handle of the door.

Ignoring the pain in his ankle, Gordon took a couple of steps back before shoulder-barging the door.

 _Crunch!_

Wood splintered and the jammed door finally gave way after a secondary assault from the sandy-haired aquanaut.

“Let's go!” Gordon wasted no time; grabbing hold of his still-dazed younger brother and launching them both through the doorway as the ceiling finally gave way under the collective weight of broken rubble that it had been struggling to support. The sound of foundations collapsing and rapidly falling debris filling the small space that they had been occupying metres moments ago was almost deafening.

Alan felt himself being thrown to the floor, Gordon's weight coming down on top of him, shielding him from any stray detritus that escaped the confines of the restroom.

They remained frozen in that position until the sound of falling masonry died down and the dust had settled.

“You okay?”

How many times was Gordon going to ask him that? If Alan did not know any better, he would have said that Gordon had been taking smothering lessons from Scott and Virgil.

“I'll be better when you get off me, thanks,” Alan wheezed. “Lady P really wasn't joking when she said you had lumpy elbows!”

“My elbows are not...! Wait... She _told_ you that?!”

The look on Gordon's face was incredulous as he pushed himself to his feet, hobbling a little before helping Alan up. In the brighter light of their new surroundings, Alan did not miss the faint, heated tinge to Gordon's cheeks and could not help the smirk that spread across his youthful face.

“I can't believe she... Just... Al, _please_ do not tell anybody else about that.”

“When we get out of this, we can discuss just how much it's worth?” Alan sniggered as he rolled out a kink in one of the muscles in his shoulder.

Gordon's mouth dropped open for a moment before he snapped it shut with a huff. “Fine.”

Alan's chortle of amusement trailed off as he took in their new surroundings. “Uhm... Gordon..?”

“Yeah?”

“What's that sound?”

“Not that awful dripping, that's what!” Gordon snorted before going quiet to listen more carefully. “Whatever it is, it's coming from round the corner.”

Baby blues glanced down the worn corridor and I'm the direction that Gordon had described. He swallowed thickly, lowering his voice. “There's blood all over the floor.”

And... What was that smell?

A glance at his older brother indicated that Gordon was also aware of the sight and smell.

As quietly as they could, the two siblings cautiously made their way down the corridor and towards the dark trail of blood. The pounding in his head was slowly beginning to subside and Alan could not help but roll his eyes as Gordon, even with his injured ankle, positioned himself protectively in front of his younger sibling. The blond often wondered if and when his brothers would ever stop babying him.

“Oof!” Alan was so lost in his thoughts that he collided into Gordon when the latter came to an abrupt halt.

Gordon gave Alan a sideways glance, a somewhat confused frown on his face. “What the heck _is_ that sound?”

Tilting his head to one side, Alan listened carefully, scrunching his nose at the awful odour. 

_Crunch..._

He felt a shiver run down his spine at the sounds coming from just around the corner.

Wet.

Meaty.

Grinding. 

Ripping.

Alan swallowed thickly. “Gordon..?”

“I don't know, Al.” the aquanaut's body was tense. Almost shaking.

Alan was unsure if it was due to adrenaline or fear. 

“Ughhh...”

The duo froze at the sound of a soft, moist moan, interchanged glances of silent conversation - honed through years of brotherly bonding. Mostly to escape their older siblings to about being capture for any antics that occurred on the island during downtime.

Someone was in trouble.

The two youngest Tracys exchanged nods before they rounded the corner together. 

Slumped before them was a woman, clad in a torn and bloody cream coloured blouse and a brown pencil skirt. Her back towards them as she hunched over the body of a police officer. She appeared to be trembling. 

The stench from the deceased officer was almost overwhelming. 

What happened here?

Hesitantly, Gordon took an unsteady step forward.

“Ma'am?”

No response.

The woman just continued to kneel over the fallen, bloodied corpse.

“Ma'am, we're with International Rescue. We're here to help,” Gordon took another step forward. “Are you hurt?”

The woman uttered an almost inaudible, gurgling moan.

Alan stiffened and found himself huddling behind his brother. He'd played enough horror games - seen enough scary movies - that this was really starting to unnerved him.

 _'C'mon, Al! Get a grip!'”_ he mentally chided himself. _‘You're probably not thinking straight because you hit your head when you fell! This woman needs our help! What would the others do?’_

Swaying, the woman turned her head slowly. The matted, tangled curls of her long, auburn hair obscuring her face.

“Uggghh...”

Blood pooled from her mouth, bubbling slightly as she mustered another wet groan.

Her deep red lipstick was smeared across her face.

Or what was left of it.

“Holy...!”

Alan felt his chest tighten as Gordon stumbled backwards in shock.

As the woman rose.

A chunk of bloodied muscle and sinew dropped from her mouth.

Bile rose in Alan's throat as he tore his gaze away from the woman before them...

...To the body of the dead man on the floor.

He choked on the bitter taste in the back of his mouth. “Oh my God...”

The woman had not been trembling from fear. 

Or shaking from shock. 

She'd been _eating_ him.

The woman tipped her head back, her hair falling away from her face to reveal the full extent of her injuries under the dim, flickering lights of the corridor.

Half of her face was missing.

No.

Not missing

 _Torn_ off.

Glazed, lifeless eyes fixed upon the two International Rescue operatives.

She let out a putrid _hiss_.

That festering odour had not come from the ruined, gnawed body on the floor.

It had been _her_.

Alan swallowed thickly, breaking into a cold sweat. “G-Gordon..?”

Without warning, the woman unhinged her gore-encrusted jaws and lunged at them. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Thunderbirds Are Go - they belong to the late Gerry and Silvia Anderson. I also do not own any Biohazard/Resident Evil creations - that's credit to Capcom.
> 
> Author's Note: Thank you for the lovely reviews and many kudos for Chapter One - I really appreciate it and right now, I need all the positivity and encouragement I can get ^_^  
> I really hope you enjoy this next instalment - please do let me know what you think with a review <3

Booted feet pounded frantically against the worn floor.

“Keep running!”

Gordon's orders were harsh and somewhat pained as he half-sprinted, half-hobbled down the corridor; his arm still securely wrapped around Alan's waist.

Behind them, a strangled, blood-curdling shriek echoed through the hallway.

Alan was unsure if it was his imagination, but he felt so sure that the source of it was much closer than he anticipated.

Almost _too close_ for comfort.

_‘Don't you dare look back!’_

There were way too many emotions running through his head right now.

Confusion.

Fear.

Panic.

_‘Keep it together, Al! Tracys don't panic!’_

The blond gritted his teeth, tightening his own grip around Gordon's side as he tried to will his legs to move faster.

“Up ahead!”

Gordon's voice broke him from his thoughts.

Alan's head snapped up a little too eagerly as pain lanced through his skull again. Wincing, he noticed the door at the end of the hallway. Whilst not the sturdiest of doors that he had come across in his life, he hoped to hell that whatever that _thing_ was behind them no longer mustered the intelligence to pursue them once they were out of its line of sight.

That small shred of hope was enough to give the youngest Tracy an extra burst of speed, pulling his brother along with him.

Grabbing onto the handle, Alan did not even think about what could have been lurking on the other side as he yanked the door open and barrelled both of them through the doorway.

He heard Gordon yelp; his brother stumbling over something that sent him sprawling. Blue and red gloved hands fumbled for a moment before Alan frantically slammed the door shut behind them. 

Crap.

No lock. 

Not good.

_Thud!_

Alan let out a startled squawk, nearly tripping over his own feet as something solid collided with the other side of the door.

There was a muffled, hollow moan from the horribly mangled auburn-haired woman that had been stumbling after them and Alan cringed as he heard the sound of her fingers and nails pawing and scrabbling at the wood of the door. 

Baby blues locked on to the handle of the door and Alan felt his heart thudding so fast that for a moment, he was fearful the organ would burst from his chest. 

Fortunately, despite the persistent sounds and blows against the door, the handle did not budge. 

Alan Tracy let out the shaky breath that he was unaware he had been holding... 

“Holy shit! What the fuck is that?!”

... And nearly jumped out of his skin at Gordon's abrupt outburst of colourful language.

The teenager spun on his heel and almost instantly regretted it as bile rose in his throat once again.

What the hell _was_ that?!

Gordon's boots slipped against congealing blood as he struggled to his feet, the alarm and disgust evident on his paling face as he scrambled to get away from...

From...

Ripping his damaged helmet off, Alan turned and emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor.

“Alan!”

Gordon was there in an instant, one hand on his shoulder and the other rubbing in both comfort and sympathy between his shoulder blades.

“I'm... I'm okay...” the blond managed to gasp out, breathing hard. “I'm okay...”

Jesus...

What was going on in this place?

“Easy, bro. I've got you.”

The blond managed an unsteady nod at his brother's words, his body trembling slightly. He swallowed thickly. “What the hell is that thing?”

“I don't know,” Gordon shook his head, frowning. “And I'm not even sure I want to know.”

Feeling a little braver, Alan pushed himself away from the wall, daring to glance over to his left and I'm the direction of _it_.

Whatever ‘it’ was. 

Wet, glistening muscles were laid bare - ligaments, tendons and sinew visible.

As if it had been completely skinned. 

There was an odd, cartilage-like casing around what Alan guessed was its heart. 

The brain was completely exposed. 

Thick, deadly claws sprouted from grotesque and elongated powerful front limbs. 

The tips of its spine protruded from its back.... 

...Which was bent at an unnatural angle - along with the creatures neck. 

Whatever it was, it looked quite dead.

It certainly had not moved since Gordon had quite literally stumbled across it. 

Alan choked a little on the bitter taste in his mouth. “Just what the hell is going on here?”

“Your guess is a good as mine, brother,” Gordon grimaced. “I certainly hope that thing doesn't have any friends knocking around.”

As much as Alan hates hearing it, his older sibling had a very valid point.

“We should get out of here.”

“Agreed,” the aquanaut nodded solemnly. “We gotta find Scott and Virgil though first though.”

_‘And hope that whatever hit this building didn't damage Thunderbirds One and Two in the process...’_ the teenager mentally added.

“Well, we can't do that if we're hanging around here with...” Gordon wrinkled his nose as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder and in the direction of the motionless, skinless monstrosity. “That.”

Alan visibly shuddered.

“You feeling okay to move on, Al?”

A slow nod from the blond.

_Thud._

The astronaut cocked his head to one side.

“Did you hear that?”

Gordon almost mimicked the actions of his younger brother; tilting his head as he strained to listen. “Hear what?”

Silence.

“I thought I heard something...”

Honey brown eyes narrowed in a mixture of concern and skepticism. “Are you sure you're feeling okay, Alan? You took one heck of a knock to your head.”

Frowning, Alan opened his mouth to respond when--

_Crack!_

The foundations of their surroundings shook in unison with the terrifying sound of splintering and cracking.

Alan Tracy felt that almost-nauseating feeling of panic and fear return from deep within him at the sound that accompanied the initial, brutal sound of something being crushed. 

_Bang!_

His mind immediately recognised it as gunfire.

“Move!”

Once again, Gordon had sprung into action before Alan's mind could figure out what was going on: His WASP-trained brother shielding him protectively as he bundled both of them through the nearest door that did not contain a terrifyingly butchered woman behind it.

The blond emitted an exclamation of surprise as he collided against something quite solid and unyielding. 

A table?

Another short burst of bullets being discharged had him instinctively ducking for cover, flinging his arms over his unprotected head. 

Ditching his damaged helmet may not have been such a good idea after all... 

Gordon was quick to pull the sturdy door shut behind them with a sonorous _clang!_

Silence.

It felt almost unnatural, which freaked Alan out even more.

“Where--?”

“Shh!” Gordon hissed, his voice low as he crouched awkwardly next to his brother, his injured ankle hindering him somewhat.

For what felt like the longest time, they maintained their hiding place, hunkering down and listening out for the slightest sign that they needed to make a run for it.

Nothing.

Save for the occasional tremor in the ground.

Baby blues met with briefly with honey browns before Alan cautiously peered over the top of the robust metal table that they had taken shelter beneath.

A dirty, slightly bloodied face with piercing blue eyes and matted, dusty blond hair stared back.

Alan tilted his head, blinking owlishly in confusion.

Five feet away, the face mimicked his actions.

A short, slightly scuffed metal bar was welded to the surface of the table, situated on the side closest to them. Not too far away from it, a microphone was neatly placed.

Things started to dawn on his still dazed and sluggish mind.

They appeared to have thrown themselves into an interrogation room of some sort. 

But why? 

_“--incident in Arklay County, America. Multiple reports are varied and sketchy but there's a lot of people injured and in distress. Local authorities are requesting immediate assistance.”_

John's no-nonsense voice echoed somewhere in the blonde's subconscious. 

Ah yes.

That was right.

Their brother had intercepted a multitude of distress calls from an isolated mountain county in the Midwest of the United States and had subsequently contacted Thunderbirds One and Two - both en-route home from their last mission deep within in the Amazonian rainforest - to respond to the call.

“Alan!”

Gordon's hands were on his shoulders, yanking him back down and under the table as the room seemed to shake terribly.

An earthquake?

No.

Alan was more than aware with regard to what an earthquake felt like. Being a part of International Rescue did come with many exposures to natural disasters after all.

And this was certainly not one of them.

The floor shook again. 

And again.

I'm fact, the floor beneath their knees was beginning to tremble with increasing vigour and pace.

The two youngest Tracys locked gazes, both of them silently questioning the notion to make a break for the door.

There was a heavily-muffled, rapping sound - vaguely audible over the soundproofing of the interrogation room that was their current refuge. 

A hiding place that felt suddenly _very_ vulnerable with just one point of entry and exit. 

“I think we should go.” Alan whispered.

“Agreed.” Gordon gave a short nod, already rising to his feet and Alan noticed that his brother was still favouring his left leg.

It filled him with worry. 

How fast and for how long would Gordon be able to run with his injured ankle?

Alan was about to voice his concern when the one-way mirror on the far side of the room exploded.

Or so it had initially seemed. 

In actual fact, something had completely shattered the sturdy glass from the other side. 

No. 

Not something. 

Both Alan and Gordon were quick to retreat backwards, shielding themselves as best as they could from the shards of glass and the blur of grey and blue that collided with the sturdy interrogation table.

Alan's eyes widened and his breath hitched in the back of his throat as something clattered haphazardly to the concrete floor at their feet.

A still-smoking gun. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: I'm so sorry for the delay in uploading Chapter 3. Some stuff went down and I had a bit of a mental crash. I hope this chapter makes up for the tardiness!  
> As always, I'm forever grateful for the kudos, follows and reviews - you guys are amazing <3

Eyes.

Steely.

Cold.

Almost lifeless.

And yet, Alan Tracy felt as if they were piercing through his very soul.

The teenager retreated two steps before he felt his back press up against the cool, unyielding wall of the room.

Every nerve and fibre in his body was screaming at him to run.

To get away from the towering monstrosity that stood on the other side of the shattered one-way mirrored glass. 

Those unblinking, brightly accentuated eyes were a stark contrast to the newcomer's sickly, grey flesh as it regarded everything and everyone within the suddenly too small confines of the interrogation room. 

Alan's legs refused to budge.

“Scott!”

Gordon was quick to rush forward and towards the heap of blues and grey that had landed unceremoniously on the metal table before them and Alan was really starting to worry that he was suffering from a concussion after he and Gordon had allegedly tumbled through at least two floors worth of building. 

Especially if it was taking him this long to realise that the hulking mass of inhuman muscle in the adjoining room had just tossed their Field Commander through the thick glass as if he were nothing. 

“Crap...”

A gloved hand clenched into a fist as Scott Tracy growled through gritted teeth; his frame shaking slightly as he managed to push himself up on his right elbow; broken shards and slivers of glass sliding from his body to the table and floor. 

Fortunately, it seemed that his jetpack had taken the brunt of things. 

“You sonuva--!”

The blond glanced up just in time to see a sturdy piece of masonry fly through the connecting room with the speed of a torpedo and collide with the colossal grey being. The almost comically-placed fedora was shunted off with the force of the blow to reveal a bald head and deep furrows that marred the ashen flesh of the behemoth's face. 

Said behemoth was almost unfazed by the surprise attack - even as the deepest crimson began to trickle down the side of its head. 

However, those eerie, black and white eyes broke their gaze with the occupants of the room, glancing down at the fallen hat.

The thick leather of the fitted trench coat crunched as the newcomer threw its head back and emitted a terrifying, inhuman sound that reverberated through the room before turning to glare at something - or someone - just out of view. Without warning, the mammoth-sized humanoid turned and charged at whatever was responsible for the deadly projectile.

“Virgil!”

Suddenly, Scott was in motion; rolling from the surface of the table and landing with almost feline grace. Sharp blue eyes scanned the small room before he snatched the discarded gun from the ground by Alan's foot. 

“You two, stay there!”

Scott's words were sharp; barked out in a militant, no-nonsense tone.

A clear order.

Alan automatically froze in place as a response.

“Scott! Wait!”

Gordon's words went unheard as their brother vaulted through the frame that held what was left of the one-way mirror and disappeared from sight.

Moments later, the dissipating sounds of a chase were drowned out by gunfire.

Alan and Gordon flinched in unison.

There was a loud crash - a crunching sound - and the floor beneath them trembled for a moment before silence and stillness fell once again.

The blond was the first to find his voice. 

“What the heck just happened?”

Gordon's mouth was still agape as he struggled to comprehend the events that had just occurred. “I... don't even know where to begin...”

“What _was_ that thing?”

“I don't know,” Gordon frowned, his eyebrows furrowed. “I'm not even sure I _want_ to know.”

“Whatever it was, it was huge,” Alan gulped. “At least seven feet tall...”

And their eldest brother had just left as suddenly and abruptly as he had appeared to pursue it.

Armed with a gun.

Something deep in the back of Alan's mind was worried that a simple handgun would not be enough to stop such a terrifying creature.

Because as human as that thing seemed, the astronaut was pretty sure it was as not.

“We should go after them.”

Baby blues widened. “Are you serious, Gordon? Did you even see the size of that... That _thing_ ? Not to mention, Scott told us specifically to stay here...”

“And you're okay with just chilling here until something happens?” Gordon cocked his head, his expression slightly incredulous. “Which would probably end badly. Especially given our track record so far. Just saying. Speaking of, how's your head feeling?”

“Still attached to my neck,” the blond attempted to smile however it appeared more as a look of chagrin. “I've a killer headache and it's taking me a while to process things, but I'll live. What about your ankle? I doubt you can even run far on that right now?”

The sandy-haired aquanaut flashed a reassuring grin. “Don't you worry about me, little brother. I'm made of tougher stuff,” his confident demeanour soon faltered into one of concern. “Though, I think my screwy, sprained ankle probably isn't as bad as a potentially broken arm.”

“What?!”

“Sorry, I should have put that into context,” Gordon ruffled his hair sheepishly. “I'm guessing you didn't notice much about our fearless leader earlier considering how brief the encounter was. Especially, the way he was holding his left arm.”

This time, it was Alan's jaw that dropped in a mixture of shock and disbelief. 

“As much as I want to say ‘I can't believe that guy’, it's totally something he would do.”

“And has done several times in the past,” Gordon snorted. “But we've all been somewhat guilty of that behaviour at some point on the job. Especially when Virgil and Grandma go full medical mode.”

“Ain't that the truth?” Alan snickered. “So, we gonna go after them?”

“Are you honestly asking me that?”

“Scott's gonna be so cross,” Alan bit his lower lip. “He already looked pretty mad.”

“I think I would be too if the Hulk's grey cousin on steroids yeeted me through a window,” Gordon said as he gingerly tested his weight on his injured right ankle, grimacing with the effort. “We'll just have to be extra careful moving around this place. Especially since we don't have anything to defend ourselves from... Y'know...”

“Tall and grey?”

“And whatever that skinless thing was,” the aquanaut shuddered. “I really hope it didn't have any friends.”

“And that creepy woman,” Alan gulped. “Whatever she was.”

“Hey, Al? You don't suppose...?”

The blond shook his head furiously. “ _Don't_ say it, Gordon.”

“I mean, don't you think she looked like one?”

“Gordon...”

“Not to mention, wasn't she was _eating_ that guy?”

“Gordon, please!” Alan almost growled. “I refuse to humour that thought.”

“Oh come on, Al. We both know you want to say what she was.”

“But she wasn't! That's impossible!” Alan threw his hands in the air in frustration as he stalked towards the door. “There's no such things as--”

He yanked the door open with more than enough force and suddenly, the anger in his voice was trailing off almost as quickly as his words did.

Glassy, slightly fogged eyes; once a deep, chocolate-brown in colour greeted the teenager.

The stench of putrid, rotten flesh wafted through the air as the man emitted a gurgling groan through his maw.

_‘Go on.’_

Torn, bloodied fingers reached out. The dark blue material of his uniform was torn in places and stained a deep crimson.

_‘Say it.’_

Alan found himself frozen on the spot, unable to move or tear his eyes away from the person before him.

_‘There's no such thing as zombies.’_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: I didn't expect to have this chapter finished so soon but here it is! Unfortunately, I was hoping to have more of this fic done in time for Halloween but I guess there's no harm in it being finished after? Better late than never? ^^;  
> As always, thank you so much for the lovely comments/reivews, follows and kudos - you're all amazing <3   
> Happy Halloween for tomorrow too <3

_‘There's no such thing as zombies...’_

“Ugghhhhh...”

_‘There's... no such thing as zombies.’_

Alan Tracy wanted to gag on the rotten stench assaulting his nostrils.

_‘... No such thing as zombies.’_

Even with his best efforts, he could not tear his mortified gaze from those glazed, cold brown eyes before him.

_‘No... Such thing as zombies.’_

Could not will his legs to move - even as booted feet staggered sluggishly in his direction.

_‘No. Such. Thing. As. Zombies.’_

No matter how many times he repeated those words in his head like a mantra, it did not change the fact that standing before him was...

Was...

_Blam!_

Crimson flew through the air.

Cold, wet liquid sprayed across the blonde's face; finally snapping the young astronaut from his stupor.

Alan yelled out in a combination of shock, disgust and surprise. His legs finally unfroze themselves only to buckle and stumble; resulting in him falling flat on his backside. 

Moments later, the sound of something meaty and heavy hitting the ground echoed slightly through the room. 

A body. 

Dark red soaked through the rich blue fabric of the torn uniform, combining with the equally deep fluid that seeped from matted black hair - pooling sluggishly across the floor. 

Alan's breath hitched in his throat. 

Those chocolate-brown eyes...

That thick, black hair...

The motionless body before him looked almost like... 

Just... like... 

“Are you alright?”

Startled blues glanced up to see a hand extended in his direction. 

He was fully expecting to see Gordon standing there with a worried look on his face.

Or Scott ready to chew him out for not listening to his orders.

“I... Uhm.. ”

Instead...

“I'm sorry about the mess. You're not hurt, are you?”

Alan shook his head gingerly for a moment before taking hold of the gloved hand offered to him.

“Who... Who are you?” Gordon was suddenly there, helping Alan to his feet.

Warm blue eyes softened and the newcomer offered a small smile.

“I'm Claire,” she tucked a stray lock of long, auburn hair behind one ear. “Claire Redfield. And you two are...?”

“Gordon. Gordon Tracy,” the aquanaut replied somewhat cautiously. “And this is my brother, Alan.”

Claire tilted her head to one side. “You guys are with International Rescue, right? I think I recognise those uniforms.”

“Good eyes,” Gordon kept his professional front. “Do you know what's going on here?”

“An outbreak,” Claire replied, her smile fading. “Some kind of virus, I think. I'm here looking for my brother.”

“Your brother?” Alan echoed.

“His name's Chris," Claire's auburn ponytail bobbed as she gave a short nod. “He works in this building as part of a rescue squad. Kinda like you two. Except a little more specialised.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Alan tried to flash his best smile, flexing a little. “We're pretty specialised too.”

Behind him, Gordon shook his head with a groan. “Al, stop.”

The blond pouted over his shoulder at his older brother. “What? Scott does things like this all the time!”

Well, maybe minus the bodybuilder poses. That was more Virgil's thing.

“Yes. And with much more finesse. Besides, time and place?” Gordon rolled his eyes before clearing his throat and addressing the redhead. “We're also looking for two members of our team. I don't suppose you've seen them?”

Claire's long ponytail swayed from side to side as she shook her head. “Afraid not. The only other person I've seen so far was the rookie police officer that I travelled in with,” she noticed Alan glancing nervously at the uniformed corpse on the blood-stained floor and quickly waved her hands dismissively. “Oh no no! That's not him. We got separated a while back on the road here.”

Gordon and Alan visibly relaxed at her explanation.

“Anyway, if it's all the same to you guys, I really need to get going,” Claire pulled a gun from the back of her light red shorts. “Do either of you know how to fire a gun?”

She received questioning looks from the two International Rescue operatives.

“I'm not sure if you two know the ins and outs of what's going on here but long story short, if you want to get out, you'll need to be prepared,” she explained. “If either of you have good aim, I would strongly suggest shooting those zombies in the head of you don't want to risk wasting bullets. And before you ask, the armoury was open.”

“A-Armoury?” Alan gulped.

_“--reports of shots fired from within the building. Proceed with extreme caution.”_

Another snippet of a fractured memory rang clear in the back of Alan's still-jumbled mind. 

John's usually-calm voice over the communications channel had an unnaturally terse undertone. It made the blond shudder. 

_“Officer Marvin Branagh will brief you when you get to location. He said it would be better to explain things in person. Whatever that means.”_

“You're kidding me, right?” Gordon's question brought Alan back to the present. “Zombies?”

“Got a better name for reanimated corpses with a taste for living flesh and blood?” Claire offered.

“Touché,” Gordon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “And now that you mention it, I'm pretty sure I read something about ‘cannibal murders’ a couple of months ago not too far from here. The Spicer Mansion?”

“Spencer,” Claire corrected softly. “My brother worked on that case.”

“I heard that there were heavy casualties involved in that incident,” Gordon frowned. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” the forced smile on Claire's face seemed more pained than reassuring. “I should get going though. I really need to find my brother.”

“We can come with you?” Alan offered.

Claire shook her head gently. “Thanks, but I move better alone. Besides, I've got to rendezvous with Leon. He's the rookie cop that I travelled in with.”

“Well, I guess if we can't sway you, just be careful. And thanks. For helping out my little brother,” Gordon gestured to his newly-acquired firearm. “And also for this.”

“Don't mention it. You better take these too,” Claire reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a box of 9mm bullets and tossing them in the aquanaut's direction. “Don't forget to aim for the head if you can. And watch out for those awful, skinless creatures. Apparently they're called ‘Lickers’. Pretty blind but extremely sensitive to sound.”

Gordon clocked his head to one side in a questioning manner. “Lickers?”

“Trust me, the name is kind of fitting,” Claire gestured to a tear in the side of her red leather jacket. “They have insanely long tongues as sharp as a blade and their claws pack a deadly punch too.”

“I think that's the dead thing we saw earlier on...” Alan gulped.

“To be honest, the best kind of Licker is a dead one,” Claire's deadpan expression softened into a more sympathetic one before she turned on her heel. “I would suggest finding your brothers as soon as you can in this hell-hole.”

A flick of her auburn ponytail and Claire Redfield retreated from sight, her soft footfalls barely audible as she left.

Both Gordon and Alan stood there for a moment in the silence.

“So wow...” the aquanaut was the first to speak.

“Yeah...” the blond nodded slowly.

Another pause of silence.

“You think she's single?” Alan mused aloud.

Gordon turned, his own face slightly incredulous. “Are you kidding me? We're stuck in this building with no comms and those... things out there and all you can think of is if that redhead is taken?”

Alan blinked at him almost too innocently.

“You gotta stop hanging around with Scott so much,” Gordon sighed before gesturing at Alan's still-bloody face. “And besides, I don't think you're sporting the most attractive look right now, little bro.”

The youngest Tracy huffed and scrubbed furiously at the blood and matter on his face. “Dibs on a shower in Thunderbird Two as soon as we get out of here.”

Gordon nodded his head with a chortle. “I think both of us could do with a decent shower after this but you definitely look worse for the wear!”

“You gonna be okay handling that?” Alan gestured at the handgun.

The sandy-haired aquanaut have a casual shrug. “Firearms _were_ included in my basic training at WASP. It's been a while but I'll bet on still being a better shot between the two of us. No offence.”

“None taken,” Alan shifted uneasily. “Don't get me wrong... Shooting zombies in video games is one thing. Actually taking a real life like this...?”

“But it's them or us, right?”

For a moment, Alan was unsure if his brother was trying to reassure him or justify any potential future actions.

“I mean, they're technically not ‘people’ anymore, are they?” Gordon spoke with some hesitation. “The real people are already dead. These are just... I don't know... Husks?”

_Reanimated husks..._

“I guess you're right...” Alan's voice was still filled with a mixture of disbelief, confusion and conflict. 

They were _International Rescue_ for crying out loud!

They were supposed to be _saving_ lives.

Not _taking_ them.

“Come on,” Gordon's gloved hand was on Alan's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Something tells me that staying in one place too long is a good idea.”

Alan gave a soft snort. “Squid sense tingling, huh?”

Gordon gave a small grunt of acknowledgement; his honey brown eyes focused on inspecting the weapon in his hands. With a short nod of satisfaction, he clicked the safety into place and turned his attention back to his younger brother. “Let's go.”

Alan nodded his head gingerly, already falling in line close to his older brother as they cautiously left the room. He hesitated for a moment before tentatively stepping over the unmoving body of the fallen body of the police officer that at first glance had looked so much like his second eldest brother.

He shuddered inwardly.

_‘I really hope Virgil and Scott are--’_

Alan nearly jumped out of his skin as his inner thoughts were abruptly halted by a slightly muffled cry of pain that seemed to emanate from another room further down the now-empty hallway.

Beside him, Gordon stiffened in a startled manner before a look of worry crossed his face.

Alan bit his lip nervously. “That sounded like... ”

“I know,” Gordon frowned. “Let's go. But move carefully.”

The youngest nodded his head, baby blue eyes wide - a stark contrast to his dirt and bloodied face - before following Gordon's lead.

He hoped they would not be too late.

Locating the right room was easier than initially thought - given that the door to only other room in the direction that they were headed had been completely smashed in by _something_.

The sturdy wood of the door was splintered and torn from its hinges.

Unnervingly large furrows raked across the panelling - as if a giant animal had previously scratched and scrabbled to get in.

Much like the claws that they had seen on that dead, skinless monstrosity.

The _Licker_ as Claire had called it.

Gordon tapped Alan quietly in his shoulder, gesturing towards the shut door to the only other room in the corridor. Without hesitating, the blond followed; hunkering down behind the aquanaut.

There was the sound of harsh panting - muffled by the thickness of the solid door. Gordon could just about make out the mumblings from a low, hushed voice on the other side of the door before silence fell again.

Alan pressed himself further against the wall as his older brother unlatched the safety from his gun. 

“Stay back...” Gordon whispered as quietly as he could.

The youngest nodded his head quietly, almost too tense - or scared (not that he would admit it) - to breathe.

Gordon flashed his youngest brother the most reassuring smile that he could muster as he stepped in front of the door. He took a deep breath before kicking the door as hard as he could, gun ready...

... And was immediately met with the barrel of a shotgun.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Eep! Sorry for the delay getting this chapter up! Things got hella hectic at work because of the pandemic and then some.  
> As always, thank you so much for the amazing reviews / comments and kudos - it always fills me with such joy!

Due to the nature of his job - and his previous experience with WASP - Gordon Tracy had faced danger on more occasions than he cared to count.

However, this was a first.

The twin barrels of a shotgun were mere inches from his face - so close that he could actually see the various scratches and scuffs where the firearm had been not-so-gently treated during use. 

He was sure that could smell the faint yet sharp scent of gunpowder wafting from the weapon.

And he was almost certain that he could feel heat emanating from the deadly metal.

It must have been fired recently.

“Gordon?!”

A deep, familiar voice snapped him out of his shocked stupor and the sandy-haired aquanaut was suddenly grateful that he was not one of those jumpy, trigger-happy people.

“Virgil?!”

Alan was suddenly there - abandoning his hidden position as he rushed to Gordon's side.

“Alan!”

“I thought I told the two of you to stay put!”

As quickly as Alan had appeared by Gordon's side, Scott was by Virgil's in a flash.

And - as Alan had predicted earlier - he seemed less than pleased. 

“Are either of you hurt?” Virgil seemed cautious, lowering the shotgun albeit not completely. His broad shoulders were uncharacteristically tense. Deep, chocolate-brown eyes fixed upon the youngest sibling with silent concern. 

“I think I may have sprained my ankle,” Gordon was the first to fully lower his weapon - a sign of trust. “And I think Alan has a concussion. Don't worry, that's not his blood.”

Virgil's dark eyebrows knitted into a frown but Scott was the first to speak.

“Elaborate.”

Gordon grimaced at the short and sharp tone of their Field Commander. The slight, gasping strain in his voice also did not go unnoticed.

“A zombie,” Alan answered quietly. “It was outside the door to the room you found us in. Claire shot it in the head.”

Virgil tilted his head. “Claire?”

“Yeah,” Gordon nodded. “Claire Redfield. She said was looking for her brother. Apparently he works here. We offered for her to come with us but she declined.”

“I see.”

“How's your arm?” Gordon gestured with his free hand towards his eldest brother. “I saw you were holding it funny earlier. You know, after your tussle with Big Grey. Where _is_ that thing anyway?”

“Still attached,” Scott acknowledged. “And ‘Big Grey’ fell through some dodgy flooring whilst chasing after Virgil. No idea what it is, apart from very big, very heavy and very angry.”

“We thought we heard your voice earlier and it wasn't a good sound,” Alan shifted uneasily from one leg to the other. “That's why we came to investigate.”

Virgil's reply was simple as he fully lowered his weapon with a shrug. “He dislocated his shoulder and I had to fix it.”

“Oh...” Alan always felt a little surprised by how casually his second-eldest brother would talk about treating injuries. Either Grandma Tracy had taught him a little _too_ well, or Virgil had become increasingly desensitised over the years in his job.

Part of him _really_ hoped it was not the latter.

“I don't suppose either of you have been able to contact John?” Gordon enquired as he hobbled over and perched on the edge of a table. “My communicator is busted and so is Alan's. Happened during that massive blast.”

“I have a feeling whatever caused that explosion has also somehow affected all comms...” Virgil frowned, tapping the built-in communicator on his utility sash. The ‘IR’ logo lit up but was met with static and a high-pitched whine. “Something seems to be jamming all signals. Even the desk comms in this place are dead.”

Not good.

Gordon gave a sharp snort from where he was sat. “Zombies, no comms and a giant, angry grey dude stomping around... Sounds like one of Alan's video games.”

Except this was _very_ real.

“We need to get out of here,” Scott glanced at the two youngest brothers. “Whatever is jamming our comms is also preventing us from remote accessing our 'Birds too and sending them to our location. We need to try and navigate our way to them.”

Alan fidgeted where he stood. “What about any other survivors?”

Vigil's frown deepened, his expression darkening. “I hate to say this, but I really don't think we're going to find any. Look at this place. I don't know about you two, but all Scott and I have found so far are dead bodies, those ‘zombies’, that giant grey guy and some disgusting, fleshy thing with no skin.”

“Sounds like a Licker,” Gordon informed. “That's what Clare had called them. We found a dead one earlier. No skin, huge claws and an exposed brain.”

“And a terrifyingly sharp tongue,” Virgil remarked. “Nearly took my head off but I managed to deflect it with the Jaws of Life before Scott shot it.”

Alan cringed as his imagination initially visualised the scene in his head before his thoughts shifted drastically to what could have happened if Virgil had not been able to defend himself in time.

The teen shuddered.

“Hate to ask the obvious, but happened to your Jaws of Life?” Gordon scratched the back of his head in a quizzical manner as he glanced around the room for his brother's beloved exo-suit.

“Had to ditch it,” Virgil frowned, clearly disgruntled. “It took a lot of damage in the blast that separated us. And then our big, grey friend pretty much rendered the rest of it useless when we got up close and personal earlier.”

Gordon cringed. 

Brains and Grandma were going to have a field day with all of them when they returned to base. 

“Well, there's no point us hanging around in this room any longer. Let's get going...” Scott hesitated for a moment before glancing at Gordon. “Are you going to be okay moving around with your ankle like that?”

The aquanaut initially replied was a shrug. “Got this far, didn't I? Are you going to be okay with your shoulder?”

“I've had worse.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Not what I asked, bro.”

“I'll be fine,” Scott's reply was curt. “Let's just get out of here.”

Alan bit his lip as he glanced at Virgil worriedly. The last thing he wanted was for two of his brothers to start fighting.

Especially in this place.

“Come on, you two. Don't we have enough to worry about at the moment?” Virgil's voice was calm yet steady - ever the family peacekeeper. “Let's just focus our energy on getting out of this place and back to our 'Birds. The sooner we're out of here, the sooner we can get in contact with John and the GDF.”

His words were met with nods and grunts of confirmation. 

Chocolate-brown eyes locked with baby blues. Virgil hesitated for a moment before he reached to the side and picked up a handgun from the desk next to him. He thought for a moment, feeling the weight of it in his hand before he offered it to the teen. “Do you remember much from when Grandpa Tracy taught us how to shoot when we were younger?”

Alan shifted uncomfortably. “I think so. Do I really have to?”

Virgil gave the youngest his best smile of reassurance. It seemed awfully forced. “We'll try our best to cover you, but it's good to have something to back yourself up with. We don't know how many of those things are out there.”

“‘Things’…” Alan echoed, swallowing thickly as he looked at the firearm being offered to him.

Sure, he had playing shooting games before.

And yeah, he did kind of remember some of the leisurely shooting that Grandpa had taught them back on the ranch.

But he had never actually shot a _person_ before.

“Alan.”

The teen glanced up at the sound of his name.

“Alan,” Virgil repeated, his deep voice gentle as he seemed to read the blond's internal conflict. “You can't think like that. They're not people. Not anymore.”

“But...”

“I know, Al,” The raven-haired pilot placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know. Besides,” he jerked his head, motioning to their siblings in the room. “I'm pretty sure those two will have our backs.”

“Of course!” Gordon grinned. “Don't you forget that I was top ten in my class at the WASP shooting range.”

Next to him, Scott could not help the smirk that spread across his face. “Top two in the Air Force.”

Gordon huffed, rolling his eyes. “Show off.”

“See?” Virgil chuckled. “You're in good hands. We both are.”

Forcing a smile and a small nod, Alan took the gun offered to him from Virgil's gloved hand. He let out a nervous laugh. “Well, I guess there goes Dad's ‘no weapons’ policy for International Rescue.”

The Thunderbird Two pilot grunted softly in amusement. “F.A.B.”


End file.
